Like last year, but not!

I so wanted to make this post a special, moving event.

However, when it gets right down to it, I'm lazy and really busy ignoring a good bit of homework, which, I'm still convinced, will do itself.

Today is my 26th birthday.

I feel pretty good about it.  I mean, 25 blew giant camel chunks, so I figure this should be a camel-free calendar year.

In the style of the new year, I will make a list regarding what I would like out of my 26th year of life.


In my 26th year of life, I will...

...get the flaming piss out of North Carolina.

...learn how to do my taxes like a big girl.

...continue not getting pregnant or contracting venereal diseases.

...learn all the words to the Dixie Chicks' "Sin Wagon."

...stop apologizing for not liking Greek food.  That's right, it gives me the trots!

...secure the affections of a Puerto Rican cheese maker for a dairy-filled, torrid affair.

...secure a high paying job with butt-loads of benefits, a masseuse on staff, a pie shop downstairs and my very own personal bathroom with a door that looks like it's part of the wall.

...become engrossed in a Mexican soap opera.

...begin slapping people dramatically when things aren't going my way.  ("What do you mean my dry cleaning isn't ready?   Mentiroso!")

...stop judging people just because they like things I hate, like clowns, mushrooms, the color orange, American cheese and country music.

... bump into Jason Sudeikis by chance at a local wine festival and dazzle him with my sommelier skills ("You see how this one is red?  That means it's different from the ones that are more...oh, what's the word...white.")


I will do my best to be Lucy Logic here, as I understand one or two of these may not take place.  For example, it is highly unlikely that I will ever do my own taxes.  If you've ever seen how hard it is for me to add numbers in my head, you'd be on board.

However, if I bump into that Puerto Rican cheese maker, I'll let you know.

I would also like to wish a happy birthday to a very talented gentleman, who has forever altered our world for the better, and with whom I'd like to share my birthday glory. 

Robert Palmer, you'll always be "simply irresistable" to me.

Joey doesn't share food

Hey, it's Tuesday.

Just ask Amber.  I'm pretty sure she'll agree with me that it is, in fact, Tuesday.

Prepare to be validated.

Hey, it's okay...


...if you put about $25 into a tomato plant, 2 bags of soil, a giant flower pot and a wire cage and you only got 3 damn tomatoes out of the whole deal.

 ...to think the Charmin cartoon bears with toilet paper stuck to their butts are creepy as hell.

...if you heif out at a Mexican restaurant and on your way out, catch the faint aroma of Burger King and think, "That smells good."

...if you are so sick of that Train song, Soul Sister, you could spit on a gerbil.

...to love the Man vs. Food guy even if your blogsbian finds him foul and untrustworthy.

...if you want to blackmail someone into unmaking that f---ed up looking, weird-ass, animated owl movie.

...if you think most men are giant babies about getting sick.  I mean, I don't know about you guys but my dad taught me to walk it off.

...if you thought the movie The Back-Up Plan was total trash, but perhaps you also thought it was romantic as hell that the male lead created and named a cheese after his baby mama (and wish someone would do the same for you someday).

...if, despite having an older brother, going to kindergarten and having excellent parents, you still do not like to share.

Trick question... or am I?

It snows in the mountains: true or false?

True!  Wait, false?  No... yes... uhh, purple?  Forty-three.  Gerald Ford!

Since I first moved here, I have been warned that Winter is long and bitchy, often giving us snow as late as May.  And yet, the residents of this little town seem to forget all that the second the weather predictions turn itchy.

I swear, every time snow, sleet, ice or all of the above are forecast for the High Country, people here flip their biscuits (a-thank you, Lisa!).


Suddenly, the parking lot at Harris Teeter is a freaking zoo, all the baskets (both big and small) are taken and hoarded, and Lucy Logic has officially taken a backseat to Annie Alarmist.


What really amuses me are the things people deem as "essentials."

So, for the most part you see baskets teeming with milk, pasta, cereal, bread, bottled water, etc.  These are the traditional items on which people choose to stock up when they think they're going to die.

On the other hand, you'll also see a couple college-age guys walking out of the grocery store with two cases of Coors and a 12-pack of toilet paper, looking pretty proud of themselves I might add.

What did I get at the grocery store, you wonder?

Thank you for asking.

I stopped off at The Teet for only the most basic items any woman may find indispensable when bombarded with the seven plagues of the apocalypse.

I got a wheel of brie and a copy of US Weekly.

Boo-yah.

Life Lesson #74

I make few rules for myself.

In fact, I have but one rule.

Today, I broke it.

It was thoughtless and stupid... and Lord knows I paid for it.

I wouldn't even bring it up except that I want others to learn from my mistakes.

It's a good rule, and when followed, it will enrich your life and increase the value of your self worth.

So, without further ado, I give you my one and only rule:

If you must sniff a dairy product more than once to see if it has gone bad, do not taste it. Throw it away immediately!

So, do yourselves a favor. Follow my two-sniff rule.

And don't let the funky mozzarella ruin your day.

Looks like Lenny's goin' fishing!

Okay, so it took me a good 24 years or so, but I have finally learned to like my hometown.

I know a lot of kids who grow up in a small towns spend their formative years dreaming of getting the frick out of there. I was no exception.

When I was younger, I was absolutely positive I would someday live in a big city like New York or Chicago. It sounded terribly cosmopolitan to grab my breakfast at a deli, take the train to work and, of course, bitch to my friends about all the tourists from Hicksville.

While I still like New York and Chicago very much, and I think I could live there if I had to, I would be pleased as punch to live in a smaller city. And another thing! This town that I've been whining and complaining about since I moved here almost 14 years ago? I kind of like it! So there!

Now, at first, I was a little ashamed of this realization. Almost all of my friends from high school have moved to major cities. They went to Chicago, New York, L.A., D.C. and one even went to Hong Kong. I started thinking I had sold out in some way.

Then one day, my good friend Lisa (Lisa-Pants, if you're keeping track) called me. She and her friend Rachel had gone to New York for a week so Rachel could audition for grad school. Lisa was using it as a trial run to see if perhaps she'd like to move to New York someday. When I talked to her about it, one of the first things she said was, "They don't have any trees."

As the conversation progressed, I found myself agreeing with everything she was saying. I, too, need trees. I need to plant flowers and I need a back yard where I can lie in the grass and read when it's warm outside. I don't need to live in a log cabin in a heavily wooded area (cause, you know, that's where the bugs live), but I need grass, damnit!

That's when I realized that, well, I already have that. It was a very Dorothy-Glinda-No-place-like-home kind of moment. My hometown is quite pretty in the summer (except for the river that's the color of week old tuna) and despite the fact that it's not a bustling metropolis, we have a decent fine arts community.

Why, just this very evening is our Gallery Walk where businesses displaying local art are open to the wandering public, and I have a few friends whose work will be shown. Also, there's a place called the Main Street Wine and Cheese Shop that will be serving refreshments. In fact, they're offering something called a wine slushie. I ask you, how does that not sound phenomenal?

Not only do I like where I am, but I'm pretty sure I like where I'm going, too. In May alone, Boone, NC hosts events like Grandfather Mountain Naturalist Weekend (not nudists, I checked), Hayes Grass Festival (not sure about that one), Art in the Park and Nature Photography Weekend. I'm so excited, I could just spit.

In conclusion, stop whining, buy local and make yourself a slushie!

Thank God I'm not lactose intolerant

Today sucked.

Some days just aren't good. I generally believe that everyone is in charge of his or her own happiness. Some days, however, are out of your control.

There are those very special days where it seems like The Man has sharpened a stick to be extra pokey and is repeatedly jabbing it in your butt. You know, for kicks.

The highlight of my day was when my boss brought an assortment of cheeses into our weekly meeting.

So, this one goes out to you, boss lady! Your cheese brought me up a level to "Sucky" from "Complete and Utter Waste of my Life".

Thanks, JM!